


Crooning Softly

by Crystal_Mazes_Lovely_Corner



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU-High Fantasy setting, Abduction, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Castration, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Magic, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Sexual Bondage, Rape/Non-con Elements, mute character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 19:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17534744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal_Mazes_Lovely_Corner/pseuds/Crystal_Mazes_Lovely_Corner
Summary: There was a thump in the corner of the tent, making him jump. There was a large chest sitting there, one that Chris didn't recognize. He hadn't placed it with his things when giving them over to the guards. He slowly got up and approached it, running his fingers along the seam of the lid. Another thud came from inside, making it shake. Chris quickly threw the latches and opened it, staring down at its contents.A man was curled up on a cushion, his face covered by a hood, completely naked.





	Crooning Softly

**Author's Note:**

> .... This one gets a little weird you guys. Udunie is the only reason this is getting posted, because the first draft was shit, and she was very loving and patient through the next two revisions.  
> d4: non con  
> d6: first meeting  
> d8: teen wolf  
> d9: historical  
> d12: body mod  
> d20: manhandling
> 
> Please please please heed the tags, there is nonconsexual castration and other weird stuff happening here.

Chris patted at his forehand, wiping the sweat off his brow. He had to clean up after his training hours, knowing that his father was going to arrive to inspect his entourage before they went off to negotiate at the border. He couldn't help the dip in his shoulders as he made sure he was presentable. There had been a hard edge to his father lately, biting and harshly criticizing anything that came into his line of sight, more so than usual. 

He stepped outside of his office, walking onto the landing over the training yard. Since everyone was ordered to donne their decorative armor, they were lounging around in the meantime. There was a group of them, all huddled up in the shaded corner, surrounding a young man in plainclothes. The man was tall, lanky with an ill-fitting shirt hanging off him like a cloak. He had closely cropped brown hair and uncommonly pale skin. Chris could see from where he was standing that he had a piece of paper in his hand, and he was clearly reading out loud for his audience, his pink lips moving at a rapid pace. Chris leaned against the railing and watched him. He was very animated in his reading, his hands waving and face morphing to show the right emotion. When the crowd quieted a little he was able to get snippets of what he was saying, his voice melodious. 

He was pretty from an objective standpoint. If Chris had more time, he would go down there and ask him about himself. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he heard the main doors of the castle open, his father striding through them as only a sitting ruler could. The soldiers lounging around quickly got to their feet, and at the order from Chris, they all lined up in formation. Gerard walked around them slowly before going up the stairs laboriously to join Chris on the wall. 

"They clean up well," he said, clapping Chris on the back. 

He raised his eyebrow at the compliment, but he thanked him all the same. His father turned to face them and cleared his throat, launching into a speech to inspire them for the mission. If Chris and his advisers did their jobs, there would be no need for this small battalion, but one could never be too careful. 

Chris was easily distracted at times like this. He wasn't much for these displays. His eyes trailed over to the corner, where the man from before had made himself comfortable on the wheel of a parked cart, watching the soldiers with eyes that seemed to glow. He imagined them staring up at him to pass the time, he got so lost in it that he almost missed when his father finished, turning to him as he walked away. Chris followed in silence. 

"That one," his father said suddenly. "The one that you were staring at, where did he come from?" 

"I don't know, he showed up today."

Gerard hummed contemplatively. "He looks like he's from the south."

Chris shrugged trusting his father’s assessment, he had been there before. "I'll have him removed then." 

Gerard waved his hand dismissively. "Don't bother, I'll deal with him if it's an issue." He turned to face Chris, a glint in his eyes coupled with an all-knowing smirk. "He is very pretty. They breed them like that down there, to be tempting to those shifters."

"I'll take your word for it."

***

Stiles had no idea where he was. It was dark and he was blindfolded, He had gone to sleep at the inn thinking nothing was the matter, before being woken in the middle of the night. He hadn't even gotten a good swing on his attackers. Now he was cold, shivering against a cold stone floor with his limbs spread taunt. He tried to rub his face against his shoulder to try and work the fabric off his eyes. 

A door across the room opened, shedding phantom light over him as shadows came toward him. Stiles instantly started struggling. "Untie me this instant!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the small room. 

There was a dark chuckle. "Do you really think that would work?" 

Stiles froze, recognizing the voice. It was King Argent: the ruler of the land Stiles was traveling in. He instantly changed his tactics. "S-Sir?" he stuttered out. He had been at the castle just the other day, reading out to the soldiers stationed there before they rode out. He and his son, Christopher, had been present, and had seemed pleased with his performance. He couldn't fathom what he had done to deserve this. "I haven't stolen anything, I swear." 

Argent laughed again. "That doesn't make you sound suspicious at all," he said, his voice getting closer, so Stiles assumed that he was leaning down. He felt the cold seeping into his soul. "No, dear boy, you aren't here to be punished. This is a good opportunity for you." A hand landed on his bare shoulder, making him jump. "You see, my men were so taken with you when you were showing off the other day… especially my son, he just couldn't stop staring at your pretty pink lips." Stiles tried to shrink away from the contact but there was nowhere to go. He did not like where this was going. "I thought that he deserved something nice before he goes back out to war, away from the comforts of home. Are you nice, Stiles?"

Stiles took a moment to respond, working past the confusion and the lump in his throat. There were no wars in the neighboring kingdoms, despite Lord Agents blatant animosity, particularly with the Kingdom to the South. "I- we could have come to some form of arrangement, my lord," he choked out. "There was no need for such... theatrics." 

"Oh, Stiles," he sighed, like he was disappointed. "I know of everyone of import from Peter's Kingdom. What did you think was going to happen?" 

Stiles' breath hitched, before stuttering out of his mouth. "I- I'm not a spy, I left their court, I swear."

"I know, of course." he said, "But that doesn't mean you are welcome. Or, more to the fact, I don't want you roaming around my land, tempting my people with your southern wiles. You can be put to much better use. You just need to be... packaged up better." 

Stiles strained against his bindings, the ropes chafing at his skin. He didn't know how this could have happened. "Please," he whispered, but he wasn't able to say anymore, as a piece of cloth was forced into his mouth. There was someone else in the room and he felt larger, smoother hands running down his back. A deep voice started a low chant that Stiles didn't understand.

"Now listen closely," Argent said, patting his shoulder. "You are going to give my son what he wants, there is no doubt about that. What my friend here is doing is making sure that you do so in a timely manner. Think of it as a competition." There was something stinging his skin where the other man was touching him, seeming to draw long lines down his back. "And when all this is over, you will be returned safely to your court. I'm sure Peter will be glad to have you back."

The sting flashed along his back. Stiles screamed, but he heard nothing.

******

Chris was so exhausted from the day's journey that he had fallen asleep as soon as his servants had set up his bed. They had come across reckless thieves in the forest, and it had been a headache, getting rid of the bodies and finding a place for those who had surrendered, a headache he still had when he opened his eyes. Everything else had been set up around him, his desk and vanity, and as soon as his feet touched the ground the servants came and brought him his dinner. Even as the camp was being set up, he was being hounded by an endless line of people coming to confirm decisions and make requests for the night. They had made camp near a small town whose name escaped Chris, and some of the soldiers had already gone down to enjoy themselves. If Chris had any energy, he might have joined them, but he was uncharacteristically wiped out.

There was a thump in the corner of the tent, making him jump. There was a large chest sitting there, one that Chris didn't recognize. He hadn't placed it with his things when giving them over to the guards. He slowly got up and approached it, running his fingers along the seam of the lid. Another thud came from inside, making it shake. Chris quickly threw the latches and opened it, staring down at its contents.

A man was curled up on a cushion, his face covered by a hood, completely naked. Chris balked at the sight, almost falling back on his ass. His mind couldn’t comprehend why there was a naked man in his tent, trying to figure out how that could have possibly happened. The man wasn’t waiting for him though, pushing himself up to his hands and knees inside. There were long black lines streaking down his back, looking like crude tattoos. Though he could not see, he obviously heard what was happening around him and he scrambled to get out, clawing at the edge and tumbling over himself as he clambered over the lip, not even trying to stand. Chris placed his hands on his shoulders, trying to steady him. The man was shaking like a leaf, but didn't seem harmed, until Chris' eyes fell to between his legs, where his cock sat on his thigh, hairless and small, his balls had been removed. Seamlessly, like he had never had them. Chris winced but didn't say anything on the subject. It was healed fully and probably not his main concern. He grabbed the hood and dragged it off his head.

Chris had to fight not to jump back. The boy from the training yard stared up at him, his eyes teary and bloodshot, but still the same golden color. His lips were parted, panting with fear, scanning the room and patting at himself, like he was making sure he was still there. He shook his head frantically pulling away and striking out at Chris blindly, keeping his legs tightly shut.. Chris tightened his grip, pressing him against the outside of the chest. "It's all right," he said, his voice more scratchy than he'd intended. "How did you get in there?" 

His lips moved as if he were speaking, but no sound came out. Chris held him steady as he calmed down, still shaking, but not combative anymore.

As he settled down, Chris finally noticed that there was something tied to his neck: a neat little black ribbon with a piece of parchment. He flinched away as Chris pulled it free. _Please return me to the Southern Kingdoms_ it read. 

A servant came into the tent, hearing the commotion, and he gasped in surprise. Chris shot him a level glare. "Get this man food and some clothes," he said keeping his voice as level as possible. "Tell the guards not to let anyone else in." His servant hurried to obey, leaving them alone again. He guided the shaking man to his bed, letting him sit on the blankets. Immediately he pulled a pillow over his lap, trying to preserve his modesty. Chris would have protested if these were normal circumstances. If Stiles had come into his presence willing, looking up at him with those doe eyes adoringly. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he found the physique of eunuchs... enticing. They were just so soft, and often their voices led to the most exquisite moans. But now was definitely not the time for that. 

The man seemed to be calming down, observing his surroundings quickly and surreptitiously sizing Chris up. "All right, Stiles right?" He nodded. "And you can't speak right now, correct?" Another nod, his eyes narrowing in anger at the floor. Chris rubbed a hand over his face, his headache only getting worse. He quickly walked over to his portable desk and flattened out some paper. He waved Stiles over and pressed a quill into his hand. "How did this happen?" he ordered. Stiles' face twisted in an emotion that he couldn't name, and he quickly scribbled out something. Chris read over his shoulder. _'bandits found me,'_ he wrote. He hesitated, then wrote, _'did this to me.'_

Chris gulped. "Even the... other bits?" he asked slowly. Stiles stared up at him and didn't break eye contact as he nodded. He put his arms around himself and curled forward, like he was going to be sick. "Stiles," he started gently. "I'm going to get someone to look you over, make sure you're alright, do you understand?" Stiles' head snapped up, his gaze going fearful again. He shook his head vehemently, sound finally coming from his lips, small whines of distress. He stood from the chair, getting into Chris' personal space, his hands clawing at his clothing. Chris was just grabbing his wrist's as his servant came back. It was his page with the requested goods. The servant helped him into a loose robe. 

Stiles stepped back looking resigned as he sat in front of the food. "Please go fetch a doctor," Chris ordered. Stiles whimpered, but started eating his food. The servant nodded his acknowledgment and departed again. Chris began to pace the room, his mind mulling over what had just happened. "You can make noise," Chris mused, "So this must be a spell." A sullen nod from Stiles confirmed his suspicions. 

Chris paused again, taking it all in. There was no way it was the bandits that had attacked them, which would be the only people that would have had the time to deposit a chest of that size without anyone noticing. He picked up the discarded note and held it up for Stiles to read. The boy’s eyes widened before closing in some form of resignation. “Are you from their court?” Chris asked. Stiles nodded, not looking up. Chris saw that his fists were clenched at his sides. “Are you a spy?” he growled. 

Stiles flinched away at the tone, but shook his head. Chris had no way to tell if he was lying or not. But if this man had been sent to hurt him- and that was very unlikely given the shape he was in- he had ample opportunity to harm him. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around the motive for this. 

Chris sighed, he finally collapsed back onto the bed, seeing Stiles flinch at the close proximity. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, and when Stiles did not respond, he pressed his finger into his chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. "I am not going to hurt you," he said again. 

Stiles stared at his mouth as he nodded.

*********

Stiles could barely stomach the food that was put in front of him, even though his body screamed for it. Every time he shifted, the thing in his ass, pulled at his rim, and he was too worried about the other man in the room. He didn't seem to know what was happening, but how could he not? How could he be standing there, looking at him... at what had been done to him, and swallow the whole 'bandits did this to me'? What kind of traveling thieves have a mage on hand to torture captives for fun? Was he just trying to keep up pretenses? Or did he really not know that his father was a figurative demon? 

Chris sat by him as he tried to eat, and Stiles tried to not look like he was going out of his mind. The marks on his back were starting to burn. His eyes stung at the thought. _'Make sure those don't run out,'_ King Argent had said as something was shoved inside him. _'You want to live to see the next day, don't you?'_

Chris saw his distress again, clearly, but now seemed unsure of how to deal with it. "Why did they put you in that?” he asked, nodding to the chest he had been in. Stiles couldn't come up with a good answer for that, so he just shrugged. 

The servant came back in short order, breaking the silence Stiles couldn't fill. He held the tent flap open so that another man stepped in. Chris stood to greet him, presumably the doctor, and started explaining what had happened. Stiles didn't recognize the man, but as soon as he spoke, his insides froze with realization, hearing the deep tones of the mage that had been with King Argent. 

Stiles scrambled to his feet, trying to get to the farthest end of the tent. His frantic movement caught both men's attention, and Chris took a step toward him, holding his hand out. "Stiles it's all right," he said, "Deaton is just going to take a look at you, see if he can reverse the spells on you." 

Stiles started to shake his head, but he caught the expression of the mage. He was frowning pointedly, glaring at Stiles, making him pause. Deaton shook his head slightly, his hand clenching at his side. Stiles' back lit up in pain, making him hunch forward. 

Chris, not knowing what had transpired, ushered him back to the bed. Stiles couldn't handle what was happening, so he just kept his eyes shut, hearing their voices float over him as they stood by his sides. "It's understandable, he probably doesn't want to have more magic placed on him," Deaton said. A hand on Stiles' chin made him flinch, but he didn't open his eyes. "Don't worry, I'm just going to take a look." Stiles heard him kneel down in front of him, fingers poking and prodding at his throat. 

Chris sat down by his side, putting his arm around his shoulder, asking questions as Deaton made his comments here and there. Stiles didn't care what they were saying, until they turned him around and pulled the robe away, tangled around his legs tucked under him. "Interesting," he said, running his fingers over the black marks. "I'm not sure what this is."

"That one was longer last I saw it," Chris muttered, accompanied by a poke on his lower back.

Deaton made a contemplative noise. "I would hazard a guess that this is counting down to something, then." He stood up. "At this point, I can't do anything about the spells," he lied, "If we were back at the Keep, it would be a different story, but here...." he trailed off. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, but you're safe now. I'm sure Chris will take care of you." Stiles... all he could do was nod stiffly, despite all the rage that was building up in his chest. There was nothing he could do. 

The men exchanged a few more words, and then Deaton departed. Stiles didn't turn around, slumping to lay on the bed as his back continued to burn steadily. He knew what he had to do, and he knew that he had to do it soon, otherwise it would be too late. Was there proper etiquette for trying to fuck for your life? 

Chris sat heavily on the bed again. “What happens when the lines disappear?” he asked after a moment. Stiles put a finger to his neck and sliced across his throat. Chris seemed to pale that the declaration, but Stiles didn’t know why. Did the thought of him dying upset him? 

“Do you know how to stop it?” 

Stiles nodded. He fiddled with the edge of the blanket, searching the man's face as he worked up the courage to touch him. He expected the captain to pull away when he cupped his jaw. Chris looked surprised but didn't fight as Stiles pulled him down into a kiss. His lips were dry and cracked, almost cutting into his skin as he pressed closer. 

Chris pulled away sharply. He looked down at Stiles’ back, probably expecting the lines to have disappeared. There was silence as the wheels in his head turned. He took a ragged breath as he settled back down. “Someone,” he said slowly, like he was trying to mediate his reaction, “cursed you with death, unless you took me to bed.” 

Stiles nodded hesitantly. A dark look came over Chris’ face, and Stiles was terrified that he was angry at him, or worse, refuse him. His breath came out as a harsh growl, but he closed his eyes, seeming to calm himself. “I am so sorry,” he whispered, before pulling Stiles towards him again. 

After his initial shock, Chris was quick to take the lead, his arms wrapping around Stiles' waist as he brought him down to the bed, pushing away the collar of the flimsy clothing that he had been given. His tongue thrust into him, exploring everything without waiting for permission. It seemed that under all the kind words and soft touches was a thinly veiled beast. Stiles felt dizzy with how quickly things were progressing, panting out moans that were not entirely faked as Chris kissed down his neck. Chris sucked on the sensitive skin there, leaving love bites in his wake. Stiles felt the tell-tale signs of a blush rising to his cheeks. Heat was coursing through him, but it seemed to have nowhere to go, his cock staying loose and limp between his legs. He didn't know what to do with himself, and was grateful that Chris didn't seem to care, so long as he lay under him. 

The lines on his back felt like they were being fueled by Chris’ passion, heating up more as his hands explored his body. Stiles tried to do the same, but every time his hands roamed closer to his hips or back Chris seemed to growl, eventually grabbing his wrists in one hand and pinning them over his head. His legs, however, were encouraged to wrap around him, and they were easily grinding against each other. The soft fabric of his pants felt good against his cock, but he wished that it was out of the way. The thing in his ass was driving him crazy, pushing into him as his hips went to town. Chris finally sat up, pulling at their clothing until all of it was crumpled on the ground next to them. He took a moment to stare down at Stiles, who squirmed under the attention. His hands went to Stiles' cock, petting at it and stroking it with his fingers. Stiles felt it twitching under the stimulation, but it didn't respond other than that. Stiles wanted something to happen, either for his cock to awaken, or for Chris to move on, but they stayed like that for an uncomfortable amount of time. 

Chris pulled away. "Don't move," he growled. Getting up from the bed and grabbing something off of the desk. Stiles had a brief moment of horror, thinking that he had retrieved the ink there, but saw as he was settling back between his legs that it was a vile of oil. Chris leaned down to kiss him again, soothing Stiles and making him breathless before sliding down his body. He shoved his arms under Stiles' thighs, making him cant his hips up. He sucked Stiles' cock into his mouth, drawing a strangled moan from Stiles' lips. His fingers clawed at the blankets as Chris' tongue swirled around him, his beard scratching not unpleasantly at the soft skin of his thighs. It didn't feel nearly as good as it had before, but it was an interesting sensation, feeling his cock bending around and caressing the sides of Chris' mouth. 

His hand drifted down to squeeze Stiles’ ass. His fingers pressed into his crack, at last noticing the plug inside him. His face scrunched up in confusion, but Stiles hooked his ankles around Chris' shoulders so that he wouldn't pull away. He tugged on his rim, pulling the bulb out of his ass roughly. The oil that had been on it had dried a while ago, making Stiles wince at the sting. Chris tossed it carelessly to the side, replacing it with slicked fingers, spreading the oil around his rim before diving two fingers inside. Stiles arched into the touch, not having anywhere to go. His confliction was tearing through his body, he wanted to stay like this, but this wasn't enough, the heat on his back a constant reminder. He moaned loudly, thrusting his hips up to show his impatience. 

Chris got the hint seeing for himself that he didn't need much preparation. He crawled his way back up Stiles' body. Stiles could feel his cock just at his rim, but he didn't shove in right away. Instead, he seemed to be searching his face for something. Stiles didn't have time to deal with whatever was going on in his head. He fluttered his eyes, tossing his head back to expose his throat. 'Please' he mouthed up at Chris, knowing he had succeeded when Chris' hips snapped forward, filling him up in one long, powerful thrust. 

The lines on his back lit up like they were brands, fire seeping into him and consuming his entire body and dulling into a pleasant simmer. He was so preoccupied with it that it took him a moment to feel Chris moving inside him, slow but persistent. Stiles could feel Chris shifting, trying to change the angle until he hit just the right spot, making Stiles see stars. That... that felt the same.

Chris had collapsed onto his elbows, letting his weight settle on Stiles' chest, The whole bed was swaying with the force of it, making Stiles almost dizzy. He was relaxing into the feeling of no pain, shuddering whenever that spot was reached, making his pelvis tight with... something. Now would be the point where he would come, but his cock still wasn't all the way hard, flopping uselessly as he was rocked. Yet still, something was building. Chris was grunting in his ear, his thrusts becoming sporadic and short, jabbing at the spot mercilessly, come flowing into him as Chris fucked him through his orgasm. Stiles tensed more and more, until all his muscles started fluttering out of his control, setting alight every nerve like he had been zapped, like he was filled with the best kind of magic. 

Stiles expected to be crushed under the full weight of the man, but instead was rolled onto his side, ensnared by Chris' warm embrace. He tried to scramble out of his reach, but Chris just grumbled incoherently, and pulled him closer. There was nothing to be done, and now that the initial threat had been dealt with, Stiles couldn’t see a reason to rest here. 

He would start making plans… in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!
> 
> I will be on [My blog](https://crystalmazewriting.tumblr.com/) until they take it away from me.


End file.
